by Derek Flynn
“I was worried about you,” he said. “I thought something had happened.”
“No.” Her voice was icy. Something was wrong.
“What took so long to meet?” he said.
“I want in.”
At first, I thought I’d misheard her, and it seemed that Charlie thought the same because he said, “What?”
“I want in,” she repeated.
“In on what?”
“The action you and Dale were running.” Charlie didn’t say anything, he just kept staring at her. “And I know you know what I’m talking about, Charlie, so don’t bother trying to deny it.”
Charlie was silent for a long time, but she said nothing more. She didn’t need to; she knew she had him. He had a grin on his face initially, but it slowly started to slip until he wasn’t smiling anymore. The first question was: how did she know? How did she know something that even Harold didn’t know? Harold knew about everybody. Then, my question was answered.
“What the fuck did Dale say?” Charlie said, finally.
“Dale said, ‘Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby’ and everything else followed. He was fronting you money, and you were buying drugs. Then, you’d sell them to seniors and split the profits. You picked the wrong big mouth to go into business with.”
“I didn’t pick him. It was just the way things panned out. Dale was the right guy in the right place with the right amount of money. I needed start-up money, but more importantly, I needed a front. Dale had the money and Dale was the quarterback. Who better to deal dope in ‘John Shade’? No one suspected him. I’d be the first person they’d go to ... Dale would be the last.”
It sounded like dialogue from some trashy pulp novel. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this from them. It made no sense to me. Here were these people I knew so well, but the things coming out of their mouths were unintelligible. As if the characters in your favourite novel started talking completely out of character. Elizabeth Bennett talking like a gangsta rapper.
“I’d be the last person,” Samantha said. “No one would suspect me ... I’m the golden girl.”
“Not anymore. Not since you started hanging around with me.”
“But I’m not hanging around with you anymore. At least, as far as they know.”
Charlie shrugged. “I dunno ... guilt by association.”
“People have short attention spans and even shorter memories. They don’t see you in school, they don’t see us hanging around together, they forget about it. And I’m the golden girl again.”
At first, I thought Samantha was putting it on – or had maybe even lost it, with all the pressure. But then, when Charlie acknowledged it, I realised she wasn’t putting it on.
This was real.
That’s when the knot tightened in my stomach. What was going on here? This wasn’t part of the script. This wasn’t who they were. They were Samantha and Charlie, the misfit and the “Girl Most Likely To”. Two mismatched lovers, Romeo and Juliet. Theirs was a tragic love affair, perhaps ultimately doomed, but that’s what made it all the more tragic. That was who they were, not this ... this crime caper, or whatever it was turning into.
“So, that’s what this was about the whole time,” Charlie said. “I thought, worse-case scenario, you just wanted to have a little fun dating the bad boy. Best-case ... maybe you actually liked me. But you were just using me to get at the drugs.”
“That’s not true.” She looked offended. But that could have easily been a front. Neither of them spoke, they just stared at each other. He was sizing her up. So was I. From the look on her face, it looked like she was telling the truth. Charlie thought so too because he didn’t say any more about it. Then, he asked the question that we both wanted an answer to: why?
“Same reason as you,” Samantha said. “Money.”
“You have money. You don’t need money.”
“I need more money. ‘Get the fuck out of here and as far away as possible’ money. I don’t care about college. It’s just a way of getting out of here. That’s all I care about. My father has the whole thing mapped out ... marriage, house, kids ... all the bullshit I want no part of. My father wants to send me to college but only so he can still keep control over me. Pay for me to go through college and then drag me back here so I can stay here for the rest of my fucking life.”
I didn’t recognise this person. Well, actually, I did. It was the old Samantha. The Samantha I thought had changed when she met Charlie. Now, she’d changed back again. But why? I began to think that she’d seen something in him the previous day in the Black Wood, something that had scared the shit out of her.
I was born into this and I’ll die in it.
I think she decided there was no way she was going to die in it. But she’d obviously known about Dale and Charlie all along. Had this been the plan the whole time, or did it just come to her in a panic after she heard his words? Did she think, ‘I want out, I’m not going to die in this. I want out quick and I know how to get the money to get out quick’?
There it was. All the tumblers fell into place. There was the answer I’d been looking for. The reason behind that look between Dale and Charlie that day. The reason why Charlie looked at Dale as though he was a peer. He was. They weren’t the Jock and the Freak, they were business partners. Dealing drugs together. As crazy as the situation seemed, it made sense of their fight. The reason Charlie looked shocked when Dale punched him was because he was shocked. His business partner was turning on him. Samantha seemed to read my thoughts.
“I couldn’t figure out why that fight happened that day,” she said. “There was something about it that bothered me. And it wasn’t you hitting me. It was something else. So, I got it out of Dale. It took days, but I finally got it out of him. He still wouldn’t tell me the whole story, but he told me what you two were up to and that you’d had a disagreement. I figure it was something he wanted to do, right? Something you didn’t want him to.”
“I can’t ...”
“I’m going to find out one way or the other. You might as well tell me.”
“He wanted to rip off our dealer.” Charlie’s expression was like someone having teeth pulled. “Dale ... the fucking clown ... wanted to rip off our dealer. And this is a guy you don’t rip off. And besides that, we had a good business going, why fuck it up?”
“So why did Dale want to do it?”
“Because he was in debt. He owed a shitload of money on the horses.”
“Gambling?”
“You didn’t see it? If he wasn’t throwing it away on the horses, he was playing the poker machines all night.”
“Jesus Christ ... of course. He wanted to rip off your dealer, you didn’t want to, you got into a fight about it. You were trying to stop him. Well, I guess it worked. He won’t be ripping off anyone anytime soon.”
Charlie didn’t answer.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he said, finally. “About Dale, the drugs ... all of that. I didn’t want you involved. That was nothing to do with this.”
“And I didn’t lie to you either,” Samantha said. “About us, I mean.”
Charlie looked at her. “Samantha, I’m done with all of it. These are dangerous people. You don’t want any part of it, I’m serious.”
She didn’t answer. There was silence. Eventually, they both began to walk out of the wood back towards the road. They didn’t speak again. For that night, at least, there was nothing more to say.
***
After the night, I was shell-shocked. What had just happened? It was like my life had turned into an episode of a bad cop show. Who were these people?
But then, I realised, it wasn’t they who had changed; it was I who had changed them. It was my fault. I had idolised them – literally. Made them into idols, placed them on pedestals, made them into something perfect. But they weren’t perfect – they were human. I was stereotyping them, making them into my own personal Romeo and Juliet – these one-dimensional characters – not realising that there were so
many other facets to them. And not just Charlie and Samantha. There was I thinking that Dale was a one-dimensional stereotypical jock, only interested in football, beer and girls. Turns out he was someone with a dark side, a gambling problem, someone who needed money so badly that he sold drugs with the school freak.
And what about Samantha? Charlie’s words that night had scared her, and she lashed out, reacted in the only way she knew – cynical manipulation – the old Samantha. And I’ve always wondered – if that hadn’t happened – what type of relationship would it have become? Because, though the relationship continued, it became something else. No less intense, but not what it had been before.
The shock to me was that it had continued at all. I presumed that any kind of romantic relationship was over after what she said and did. She’d used him, or so it seemed, to get a piece of his action, and I thought that would have changed his feelings towards her, as I presumed it had changed hers towards him. But that didn’t turn out to be the case at all.
***
My suspicions seemed to be confirmed when they didn’t meet for the next few days. They were nursing their wounds. Both of them had been betrayed, to some extent. Charlie hadn’t lied to her, as such, but he hadn’t told her the truth about Dale, about what they were doing together. And she hadn’t told him that she knew. Now, it had been turned into this ugly display. All the promise that had gone before, the belief that somehow they could be different, that maybe they could even escape from all of this, all of that was gone now. Or so it seemed to me. That was the drama that was playing out in my head. Of course, as it turned out, it was all in my head. Not that things weren’t awkward between them the first time they met up again. They were standing face to face in the clearing.
“What? No kiss hello?” Charlie said awkwardly.
“Are you serious?”
“No.” He turned away.
“So, how are we going to work this?” Samantha said.
“I don’t know, you tell me.” There was a slight resentment in his voice, as if to say, You’re the one who started all this.
“Why didn’t you just tell me about you and Dale?” Samantha said.
“I don’t know. It was complicated.”
“And I wouldn’t know complicated. Like this isn’t complicated.”
“Yes, it is. Maybe it’s complicated enough. Maybe I wanted to leave it at that and not complicate things more. Anyway, I’m quitting dealing. I’ve had enough. I’m finished in High School, so I’m finishing with that. I’ll go get a proper job. Sort my life out. So, I’m sorry. You say you want in, but there’s nothing to get in to.”
I thought she’d be angry at this, but her face was calm. Calm but determined.
“I just want a way out, Charlie,” she said. “It doesn’t matter to me what it is. I just want a way out. I didn’t mean to hurt you when I said that the other day. I was ... scared. What you said, about dying here. I can’t die here.”
He didn’t answer. She stared at him for a moment, then leaned in and turned his face to hers. She grabbed him so hard, she almost yanked his head off. He reciprocated. The two of them tore at each other. I’d never seen such passion. They’d been passionate before, but this was different. This was the potential for violence – and it was there in both of them – but it was a different type of violence – a violence of passion. Just like that, as if nothing had happened, they were embracing each other with a renewed intensity.
They finally stopped and came up for air, both of them shaking.
“Jesus,” Samantha said. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. But I liked it.”
What had just happened? Things got more confusing by the minute. He didn’t hate her for what she’d done, what she’d said. And it seemed she no longer resented him. Because they shared a deeper bond now?
“I know what that was,” Samantha said. “We know why we’re here. We know who we are ... there’s no bullshit anymore. We’re in this together.”
They were like Bonnie and fucking Clyde. That’s what brought all this on. This new layer of passion. And then, she said it, the thing that would set the wheels in motion and bring us to where we are today.
“I can help you,” she said. “I know how we can get money. We can both get out of here.”
They didn’t mention it again for the rest of that night. To be honest, they didn’t do much talking. They spent the time in their sleeping bags, doing what, I couldn’t see. But I didn’t need to. I’m a writer. That’s what we do; we imagine things. I sat there taking in the sounds of them, sounds that generated images in my mind. I listened to their groans mingling with the sound of the nightlife. Nothing but the silent, eerie dark punctuated by the calls of the owls and other creatures. I pictured them lying there, naked underneath the blanket. That’s when I made use of the writer’s tool of memory. I remembered the first day in the Black Wood and I pictured her underneath him, underneath the blanket. I timed his movements with her groans. I was imagining it all so intently that I didn’t see the lights or hear the voices until they were almost upon us.
I thought for a second I heard noises in the distance but Sam and Charlie didn’t seem to hear anything so I thought it was my imagination, or the voices of distant teenagers carrying on the wind. But my senses were indeed keen. I was right; there were voices. I wondered for a moment – who would go this deep? Apart from Charlie, Sam and I – who would have a reason to go this deep? Of course, the answer was nobody. At least, nobody that wasn’t looking for somebody. And, as the realisation dawned on me, the first pin pricks of light appeared. Flashlights. Then, voices. More voices, getting louder. Now Sam and Charlie noticed. All three of us knew what was going on.
“What’s that?” Sam said.
Charlie sat upright. “Flashlights. A lot of them. It looks like a search party.”
“For us?”
“Who else?”
“Shit. Charlie, what are we gonna do? If we’re caught here, we’re fucked.”
“There’s nothing we can do. We’ll never get out of here fast enough.”
“We have to ...”
“We can’t, Samantha, not in the dark. If we turn on the torches, they’ll see us.”
“Well, we’re not just gonna sit here and let them find us?”
“What else are we gonna do? We don’t have any choice.”
Samantha climbed out of the sleeping bag. “Screw this.”
“No, Samantha, it’s too dangerous. You’ve no idea what’s out there. It’s miles of pitch-black forest. You’ll get lost and by the time they find you, you’ll be dead. We knew what we were getting into going this deep. The only way out is through them.”
At this stage, by the time they’d finished arguing, the voices were loud enough for me to make them out and the flashlights were zipping across Sam and Charlie’s faces.
At first, it was a single shaft of light that cut through the trees. Then, there was another, and then another. Lines of clear, white light. It was so dark in the small clearing that the white light illuminated everything. Then, I heard the voices calling out.
“Samantha! Samantha!”
The clearing was suddenly a cacophony of noise as all the various birds and animals took flight, screeching as they went. I couldn’t see what Samantha and Charlie were doing, but I could hear them. Then, one of the lights fell on them, still half-naked, frantically trying to get dressed underneath the blanket. I couldn’t see the face that held the flashlight, but I recognised the voice.
Samantha’s father. Harry Pierce had found them.
My heart was racing. I didn’t know what to do – whether to stay where I was or to take off. What if they found me there? I never thought of myself as being in any kind of danger – either physical or from the law – but what if they found me there and knew I was with them, that I was an accomplice? What would they do to me? But if I tried to run, they might see me, catch me. Was I better to stay where I was? As all these questions ran through my
mind, more figures came into the clearing, brandishing flashlights. I couldn’t see their faces either, but I recognised another voice: Sheriff Blunt.
“That them?” he called out to Samantha’s father. Mr. Pierce didn’t answer. Suddenly, he was standing over the two of them. He grabbed Charlie’s arm and yanked him to his feet, pointing the flashlight at him. Charlie had managed to get his jeans on but he was still naked from the waist up.
“You fucking pervert,” Mr. Pierce said, and swung at him with the flashlight. It caught Charlie in the side of the head and he went down. Samantha screamed, “Daddy, don’t.” Mr. Pierce pointed the flashlight at her. She had the blanket wrapped around her.
“And you, you fucking trash. If you weren’t my daughter ...”
I’d never heard Mr. Pierce swear before. The other men had come up behind him now and were shining their flashlights at Samantha and Charlie.
“Take it easy, Harry,” I heard Sheriff Blunt say.
Mr. Pierce didn’t seem to hear him. He went on talking to Samantha.
“I don’t know what kind of sleaze pit you crawled out of, or where your mother found you, but you are not flesh and blood of mine.”
Samantha had been crying initially, but now, she’d stopped. His words seemed to embolden her. When he pointed the flashlight in her face, there was a look of defiance there. He tried to grab her by the arm, but she pulled away.
“Don’t you even think about it,” he said. “You’re already in a whole world of trouble. You have no idea. You come with me now, or I swear to God, I’ll take a belt to ya!”
That was too much for Charlie. He lunged at Mr. Pierce and would probably have taken him down if the Sheriff hadn’t stepped in between them and grabbed Charlie. Just as well for Charlie.
“Let him,” Mr. Pierce shouted. “I’ll have his ass in jail so fast it won’t hit the ground.”
“Son, you’re already on bail for one assault charge,” the sheriff said. “You don’t want another one coming before the court. They’ll throw away the key.”
